


Everything's Maika`i (Like I Said)

by esteefee



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-03
Updated: 2011-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny's hurtin'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything's Maika`i (Like I Said)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheafrotherdon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/gifts).



> ...because tomorrow's her BIRDAY. hoping for the bestest for you, my sweet!

Danny always got angry at times like these, when his knee pulled and ached with the pull, like a rubber band stretched to breaking, the bones shifting too loose and free so he had to use his hands, grip tight and hang on and wait for the pain to pass before he could stand up and try to walk like a normal person.

He got pissed because he felt cheated, like his body was robbing him of another twenty good years it owed him. But he also got angry because he was falling behind, letting everybody down, even though Steve's eyes showed nothing but concern as he jogged back over and lifted his hand to make as if he were going to brush the sand and dirt off him.

"I'm good, I'm good," Danny said, warding him off. "Go help Kono with the bad guys."

Steve smirked. "They're toast. My guy knocked himself out trying to jump over that passenger bike. He hit it so hard he rang the bell. Kono took out the other one." Steve sounded proud. "C'mon, let's get back to HQ and we'll find some ice for your knee."

"I don't need ice, okay? I'm good, like I said."

"Uh-huh." Steve cocked his head, but didn't say anything, just fell in line as Danny lurched forward, cursing inwardly as his knee threatened to give out with every step. He locked his leg and trudged onward, back to the circle of HPD cruisers that had gathered, and Kono's waiting grin; she waved at them cheerily before shoving the first perp into a uniform's burly arms.

:::

"So, paperwork's all done."

"Well, miracles never do cease."

"And Kono's already heading out. Chin's mad we had action on his day off." Steve crossed his arms, his biceps twitching against the sleeves of his T-shirt. "You coming over tonight?"

"Tonight any different than any other night?"

Steve poked his tongue against his cheek and then scratched his jaw, looking a lot like a big ape, not that Danny would mention it, seeing as that would just encourage him. "I dunno, you seem...pissed."

"Pissed."

"Yeah, ticked off."

"Oh, I do, do I?"

"Mad at the world. Ready to blow." Now Steve was grinning a little, a soft, dopey grin that Danny would categorically deny made him want to grab the guy and, what? Shake him silly, squeeze the stuffing out of him, maybe kiss his lights out, not that he didn't do that on a regular basis, but in particular Danny couldn't resist that one specific look that meant Steve thought he had Danny's number, thought he had Danny pegged.

Nothing could be further from the truth. "I am an enigma," Danny declared. "You don't know me at all, McGarrett. I am not angry, I am...pensive. Thinking deeply existential thoughts. I'm practically a poet, here." Danny rested his hand on his chest. "I'm James Joyce with a badge for all you know."

"Oh, I do know. I do." Steve leaned against the doorway. "Right now, I'm guessing you're thinking deep thoughts about beer."

"Well, I'm a poet; what do you expect?"

"I expect you to get up and follow me." Steve walked away. "Could be there's pizza waiting with that beer."

"I feel an epiphany coming on," Danny said to himself, and limped after him.

:::

"This wasn't bad," Danny said. "I mean, sure—they skimped on the sausage, and the peppers were a little, eh? But otherwise, I would say, for a non-East Coast pizza, which we would both agree is already lowering the bar somewhat a lot, this was not the worst dining experience I could have had this evening."

"Well, don't go easy on us or anything."

"Oh, I am, my friend." Danny tipped his bottle in a salute. "In fact, that was what you would call damning someone with weak praise—" But Steve was already tackling him to the sofa, one hand catching and removing his beer to keep it from sloshing too much, and Danny was laughing breathlessly, because, yeah, Steve hated even the tiniest bit of criticism about his perfect, perfect island paradise, down to the last sausage on his pizza, but apparently the only way he'd ever thought of to shut Danny up was by kissing him.

Not that Danny was complaining, mind.

Steve wrestled him sideways, the outsides of his lips cool closing around his, but the insides warm and soft, making Danny's breath catch. He slid his tongue inside Steve's mouth and earned a groan of approval from Steve, who started groping his ass, which was totally unfair, completely against the rules—he knew what that did to Danny's hot-o-meter. Danny tried to squirm his way into taking control, only his leg was trapped, and the pull of pain from his knee made him give a shocked yelp.

"Oh, shit. Sorry," Steve said, easing off him immediately.

"Fuck." What a hard-on killer. Danny rubbed his knee.

"This wasn't the plan," Steve said ruefully.

"What wasn't? Having my stupid knee crap out a perfectly decent Smooth Dog seduction?"

"No, the plan was, wait—" Steve grinned. "You thought I was smooth?"

"As smooth as you get, anyway." But Danny didn't put his heart into the jab, because his mood was seriously going down the toilet.

"The plan was, bring you back here and ice your knee to hell and gone, not make it worse." Steve untangled himself and went to the kitchen, saying over his shoulder, "Drop your pants."

"Now that is the kind of smooth I've come to expect from the likes of you," Danny grumbled as he carefully stood and unbuckled his belt.

Steve came back in carrying a strip of something blue and a cloth wrap. "This'll do the trick. Lie back down."

"What is that? What?"

"Gel ice pack. It's perfect—you'll love it."

"Where did you get it?"

Steve was busy stuffing it in the wrap, but he looked up long enough to roll his eyes at Danny. "From the freezer?"

It didn't add up. "You mean you already had it?"

Steve shook the thing down like a pillow in its case. "Well, yeah. You'd have seen it if you ever bothered looking past the candy." He shrugged. "Hey, I've got thirty-four year-old joints, too, Danno. You think I don't ice 'em down after things get rough?" He knelt down next to the couch. "This is terrific, goes everywhere you need it, no risk of frost-bite, and it's not bumpy and hard like ice."

Then he pressed it around Danny's knee and— _God_ —cold, so cold, but not harsh—the best kind of cold, smooth and solid, such a relief, tight and perfect all around Danny's sore knee.

He groaned loudly, and Steve grinned at him looking absolutely smug.

"Fifteen minutes on, fifteen off. I have two of 'em, so we'll switch off."

"I think—no, I _know_ I love you, like a man loves a piece of steak. And I mean that existentially."

Steve's eyebrows did a thing.

"It's a compliment. Believe me," Danny said earnestly.

"Oh, I do. I'm just wondering: is that steak rare? 'Cause, I like rare. I think I'm pretty rare."

"Just shut up. We're having a moment. Me and the cold pack. Go, sit—" Danny waved and closed his eyes. "Drink beer. Be."

Steve laughed.

:::

Later, after switching the packs five or six times and after Steve made Danny take a horse pill of ibuprofen, they went up to bed. Danny's knee felt five times better, even if it wasn't a hundred percent.

Yes, he was seriously bummed about the complete lack of sex in his evening, but he'd learned something very important. Specifically, about the wonders of gel ice packs.

But also, that his guy, his ninja guy—the fella he'd been thinking was a little too perfect, a little too outrageously prone to hurling himself over, through and mid-air on top of the most ridiculous, physics-defying situations, as if gravity were simply a concept, a theory he didn't subscribe to on most days—was feeling the pain and wear and tear of their job as badly as Danny was himself.

It shouldn't feel good to know that, but it did. Because Danny's body wasn't cheating him. It just was what it was. Life just was what it was, really. Somehow knowing he wasn't alone made it easier.

"Hey, Steve-o."

"Mmm?"

And apparently Steve got tired after a long day, too, because he didn't even lift his head, choosing instead to inch his way blindly over onto Danny's pillow so he could nuzzle into Danny's temple.

"What is it?" Steve's hand played over Danny's chest. "You want a blow job?"

Danny snorted. "Right. I want you falling asleep with your face in my crotch."

"Won't."

"Will, too."

"Won't."

"Look—that wasn't a dare."

Steve pulled away and blinked at him, looking a little more awake.

"Seriously—no, Steven."

Oh, crap, he was giving Danny that smile. That dopey, killer smile. "So, what, then?"

"Jesus. I just wanted to say thank you. All right?"

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"Sure you don't want a blow job?"

"Yes! I'm sure!"

"All right, then." Steve leaned in and kissed him. "G'nite."

Danny couldn't resist cupping his cheek and kissing him back, because, well, Danny was stupid that way, stupid for the guy, the lug, the big, dopey, hopeless, wonderful jerk.

Who then fell asleep with his tongue in Danny's mouth.

 

_End._

  


  


[Comments welcome on LJ](http://esteefee.livejournal.com/71740.html?mode=reply#add_comment)

  


**Author's Note:**

> *Sorry for the cheap shot about poets and beer. I'm sure it's quite possible to write poetry w/o drinking. Some of our greatest poets have done so. There's...um. And. Huh.
> 
> Wait, WHITMAN! yes! Walt Whitman, the Temperance poet. Sweet.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Surfing Pope (aka Beer Pong and Buttsex - Pope John's Plans to Reform the Catholic Church)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/248999) by [squidgie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie)




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